


gold in the sunlight

by suganii (feints)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brief Mentions of Blood, Character Study, Florence + the Machine References, Freeform, Gen, In which Takeru agonises over the next step in his life, Inspired by Florence + the Machine, Introspection, Missing Scene, bird imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feints/pseuds/suganii
Summary: Nakashima Takeru does not hide wings disguised as flesh. But maybe, justmaybe, he could turn to something golden in the sunlight.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19
Collections: HQ Minor Teams Fanweek 2020





	gold in the sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 7 of HQ Minor Teams Week.

_Red_. It blooms on the tips of his fingers, viscous. Takeru lifts a napkin to the cracked skin, wiping away the blood.

It barely stings now.

His reflection shimmers back at him, gleaming in the light of the sun. It fills the room with heat.

He sighs. The boy in the mirror frowns back at him.

He’s a boy slipping out of time. After tomorrow, he will no longer be part of Wakutani South’s volleyball team. He’ll be hanging up his red jersey, passing it on to the next generation, and become a picture in a yearbook, or a forgotten panel on a local newspaper.

A person of little consequence. But no, he refuses to think of himself this way.

Takeru imagines balling up all his frustrations in between the cracks of a clenched fist, and crumpling each one like so many useless notes of paper. One by one he envisions them, all his demons in a straight line. He sees the silhouette of their backs, faceless and hulking.

The lack of pro offers.

_Crumple_.

Choosing a new captain.

_Crumple_.

Not even making semi-finals.

_Crumple_.

Not doing the name of the _Little Giant_ justice.

_Crumplecrunchscritch—_

And then he lets go, holds his palm open and empty.

The boy in the mirror already has his smile back. Shadows tug at the tips, pooling at the corners, but the expression itself is honest. As Takeru is.

_Thump_ , _thump_ , _thump_ , goes his rabbit heart.

Suddenly, Takeru wishes that he didn’t have to be quite so brave.

* * *

_Red_. It’s a balloon floating, up, up, up to an expanse of cloudy sky, a body of air waving in the wind. Takeru catches the string off his younger brother’s hands just as he loses grip of it and winds it gently around Minoru’s wrist, once, twice.

“There. Now Vabo-chan won’t escape so easily.”

“Thank you, Take-nii.” His brother claps his hands at him cheerfully, flashing him a wide, gap-toothed smile.

Takeru ruffles his hair, fingers carding through the delicate wisps.

He looks up. Takes a moment and traces the herds of clouds dotting the wide open blue with a finger. The flock of sheep on the periphery of his left vision. The shepherding dog weaving its way through the flock and breaking up the tiny clusters. They move inch by inch while he stays grounded, on soft earth that sinks and erodes under his weight.

He is here, leaving an imprint on the earth.

A breeze tickles the ends of his shorn hair, cold seeping in ever so slightly through his sweater. He thinks he could chase it, maybe, a heady rush forwards all the way to the skyline. He wonders if he runs fast enough, if it might feel like he had wings for flesh, if he could take the thing with feathers and make it one with himself. He doesn’t want the earth; he wants to _fly_.

If he were to be up there among the clouds, would he be a lamb, frollicking happily with the sheep?

He gulps. Looks down, tries to deny the sudden hot stinging of his eyes.

Two days ago, he was offered a scholarship at a local university. A volleyball scholarship. He hasn’t told his parents yet that it was for the position of a libero.

A clench of his right fist.

_To go?_

Unclench.

_Or not to go?_

He exhales, a shaking, unsteady thing, and holds his palm empty and open, an offering to the deities, to himself.

Maybe this is a time for him to be brave.

He looks up. The breeze presses cold kisses against his cheeks.

And the sky holds no answers for him, just a body of red, dancing merrily on the wind. In time, even the flock of sheep leaves him behind.

* * *

_Red._ It’s the shape of his lips, bitten and chewed through. The soreness around his eyelids. A swollenness.

It’s past five am. Takeru has been replaying the volleyball footage for the past six hours.

It feels like there’s something that’s been set loose in his chest, a fierce rattle of beasts against his ribcage. It feels like heartbreak.

Lips open in a soundless cry. Slowly, Takeru closes his mouth again.

He closes his eyes too. There, the image is still imprinted on the backs of his eyelids, playing like a highlight reel in his head. Some two hundred and thirty miles away, there’s a boy in a white and blue jersey, who’d spent the entire day darting across the court on wings disguised as flesh. He’s taken the thing with feathers and set it atop his head, like defiance. Like a dare. Like a crown.

_Japan’s Little Giant_.

Takeru bows his head. Grins, and tastes blood on his teeth. The skin stretches around his aching eyes.

He’s known. He’s always known. Change is inevitable; he’s just been unsure in which direction it might blow.

Once, he’d been his school’s _Little Giant_. He might even have been Miyagi’s.

In his bedside drawer, the acceptance letter for Miyagi University sits in its envelope, still unopened.

It’s so hard to be brave, he thinks. It’s so hard to be more than this house of flesh and bone, to take that step—take the meaning of a name he held and discard it as something that’s no longer his. Perhaps hadn’t ever been.

He cannot continue like this. He opens his eyes.

There are no wings he can attach like flesh, not for him. But maybe, just _maybe_ , he thinks, watching the sun spread its gentle fingers over his skin, setting little splotches of his arm alight, he could turn to something golden in the sunlight.

Some two hundred thirty miles away, there’s a boy with a jump like a bird given flight. Takeru has felt that before.

This is not giving up, he reminds himself. He’s _trading_ wings for flesh. This is Takeru leaving his imprint on soft earth.

He clenches his fist tight, holds it to his beating chest.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Maybe he can learn to be the lion-hearted boy, and not the lamb cut down by the knife.

Unclench. He holds his palm empty and open.

He will simply have to remake himself anew, he thinks, blinking past the soreness in his eyes. Turn himself into gold in the sunlight, something worthy again of himself.

* * *

_And in the spring I shed my skin_

_And it blows away with the changing winds_

_The waters turn from blue to red_

_As towards the sky I offer it_

**Author's Note:**

> Title and quotes taken from Florence + The Machine's _Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)_.


End file.
